


everything i wanted

by thewayshedreamed



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Nessian - Freeform, Nessian comfort, POV Nesta Archeron, Post-War, nessian angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29390064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewayshedreamed/pseuds/thewayshedreamed
Summary: Post- war w/ Hybern. Nesta awakes from troubled sleep to find Cassian checking on her. She shares her dreams and her most private thoughts of herself, leading to an appreciation and mutual understanding.This OS was written for Illyrianet’s Nessian Fic Fest— my assigned song was everything i wanted by Billie Eilish.Nessian angst + comfort.Lyrics are pasted at the end of the fic if interested!
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	everything i wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Warning(s) for strong language, mentions of suicide, mentions of war, and depiction of depression.

It wasn’t uncommon that Nesta dreamt of the war. In fact, it happened more than it didn’t; the only difference being the context of that night’s dream. Some were concrete memories her brain insisted on replaying, and others were strange, abstract features of the battle that haunted her. Sometimes, she didn’t even realize the burden she carried until her brain manifested it in some kind of intangible, inconsistent mental reel.

The dreams filled with memories affected her variably. Some recurred so frequently that she’d become desensitized to the imagery, the predictability of the events eerily comforting. Others presented themselves when she least expected and unearthed another facet of her trauma she hadn’t known she would need to process. Those nights were the hardest. They seemed to occur on some of her better days, making her feel as though she was destined to forever take a step forward only to take two back.

The abstract, seemingly aimless dreams were just as disorienting as the novel memories, creating a vague aesthetic rather than a cohesive visual. In their own way, they had her ruminating over the battle itself as she attempted to interpret their meanings, wracking her brain to separate the day’s details from invented symbolisms. That task proved to be difficult, but there were some things that she couldn’t forget if she tried.

_The rhythmic cracking of bones, his bones._

The sound would forever haunt her; until her dying day, she assumed. Most often it occurred during the subtle transition from wakefulness to sleep, sounding at though those very wings were being snapped at the foot of her bed. Her eyes always flew open in alarm, and her heart rattled inside her rib cage. She counted her breaths until she calmed, only to repeat the process until she succumbed to exhaustion entirely.

_The echo of his command she couldn’t bear to follow: “Go!”_

_Her panicked response, seemingly on repeat. “I can’t”_

_The overhead view of wings, hundreds of them, broad and battle-scarred._

_A vague thrumming, felt within her very soul. An eventual uproar, power readying to unleash._

A b _right flash of light, the searing of any physical matter in its wake._

_Ashes; like snow flurries circling toward the earth in the dead of winter._

Those experiences, and numerous others like them, cycled until she was distressed enough to startle awake. That was always when the real trouble began. The internal struggle was characterized by a certain brutality she’d only experienced by her own hand.

The empty black of her room soothed her some nights and emulated the depth of the cauldron on others. Sometimes, the quiet eased the thrumming in her veins, and other times it was filled by insistent memories of battle sounds. There were nights where her eyes popped open to see a towering, winged figure lingering just inside the threshold of her door, only to ease backward once he realized she was awake and managing okay.

That night was different. The dreams started with a deluge of vague textures, motions, and sounds. From there, chopped scenes from the battle followed, but some events seemed to be skipped altogether in favor of investigating virgin territory. Her disturbed brain ran through the highlight reel of that day’s events until she held the king’s detached head in her hand once more, a vicious kind of silence settling through her blood at the memory. The dreams usually ended there, but that night, it seemed she had yet another layer to process.

—

_She was back at the house with the others, standing on the balcony and listening to the heartbroken silence they carried from the battlefield. She tried to walk away, tried to get a moment to herself to get her bearings, but the Inner Circle seemed hellbent on moving inside for discussions and liquor. To call them the Inner Circle, even silently, made her mouth taste of pure ash when considering her perspective. That perspective was one of the third party; the woman always destined to be an outlier._

_Nesta couldn’t bring herself to hate them despite everything. She would never give any of them, especially Rhysand, a single hint to it. But, whether she loathed to admit it or not, their teamwork and protection contributed in a major way to the fact that her sisters lived to see another day. That would always serve to tamp down her hatred._

_She regarded all of them and their kinship and comfort with one another. She felt it, could sense it; the love that tied all of them together. The most painful part was the intensity and how it seemed to shine beyond what she felt, even from the two of them with whom she shared DNA._

_Nesta wasn’t consciously aware of her motion to lift her body onto the ledge of the balcony. The cool stone beneath her palms grounded her as she lifted her knees upward to kneel on the solid surface. She stood to take in the landscape, the sun, and the wind blowing through her hair. It soothed her, that wind._

_The vague sounds of conversation continued behind her as if no one had any idea that she was flirting such a delicate line. The wind continued to call to her, beckoning her to join the natural balance of the universe in another form entirely. The sound of it seemed like the only tolerable sensation she’d experienced in months._

_So, she gave in to the compulsion, spreading her arms wide and leaning into the call of the breeze. There were no shouts, no screams from behind her. There was only the gentle roaring of the wind in her ears as she plummeted, and Nesta closed her eyes rather than bear witness to what happened next._

_Her expectations hadn’t been established really, but being met with frigid waters definitely wasn’t on her radar. She felt that familiar tug again, the tether pulling gently on her soul. The Cauldron, she realized. She had thrown herself chest-first toward what she thought was her salvation, only to land in her very hell once more._

_Before she got a chance to consider her choices, The Cauldron was tipping over and spilling her onto the cold stone. She gasped for breath and looked around the room. The scene was identical to the day she was Made, and she realized too late that her attempt had only resulted in her starting over from the very beginning. The details deteriorated in favor of aesthetic chaos._

_Snapshots of Elain being forced under the water. The first sight of her pointed ears and her soaked body._

_His pained grunts as he reached for her, how he crumbled beneath his own weight._

_The sound of Elain’s cries._

_Feyre begging for a broken bond._

_A blur of Illyrian wings and the death-gods. The clash of legions, and the sound of breaking bones._

_His command she couldn’t follow. Her reply._

_The weight of the king’s skull in her hand._

_The balcony._

_The fall._

_Rippled, dark, and frigid waters of The Cauldron._

_And repeat._

_The sequence continued that way; torturing Nesta over and over again with her fear and her failure. She’d finally had enough, and when The Cauldron tilted to pour her onto the stone once more, she refused. The same stubborn insistence she’d already used to take what was rightfully hers shifted into something else entirely. It was an insistence on breaking the cycle, of finally using her pathetic existence to change their circumstances._

_That time, she didn’t emerge from The Cauldron. Her essence lived within it, and the domino effect changed entirely at Hybern’s failure to prove The Cauldron’s abilities to the mortal queens. They could live in their delusions of royalty, but Nesta saw them for what they were. Desperate for power and purpose, eager to risk what they already had for greater glory. From her newfound perspective within the universe’s ether, she scoffed at their myopathy._

_In her form, the pain was gone. The guilt and the anger subsided. She finally felt like she’d bested The Cauldron and had disrupted Hybern’s ability to formalize his alliances. As her dream progressed through the usual events, she noticed subtle differences along the way that contributed to the war’s result. They won the battle. Everyone she held dear survived, as did the people dearest to them. His wings were strong and intact, albeit scarred. But from her vantage point, there had never been a more beautiful representation of triumph._

_Best of all, Nesta was no longer a burden or a disappointment. She had managed to save all of them from, not only an untimely death, but from an eternity of trying to find her place within their world. An eternity together as a family without the baggage._

_Without her._

—

Similar to how she experienced the sounds of cracking bones, she experienced the too-real pressure of his broad hand against her back. Despite it being a grounding sensation, she startled awake at the glaring reminder of the time they’d faced certain death.

They’d been prepared to go together. If only Nesta deserved such loyalty.

“Hey,” a husky, disembodied voice spoke to her. “Nesta, are you alright?”

She blinked against the dark, realizing that pressure on her back remained. Orienting her face toward the voice, she was met with a silhouette of broad shoulders and giant wings. A mess of curls circled the form’s face, a contrast to the sharp cheekbones illuminated from the hallway.

She wanted to shout his own orders back at him. “ _Go!_ ” Why make him a victim of her mess?

More than that she wanted him to stay, proving her selfishness once more.

She swallowed thickly, steeling her voice to respond. Cassian beat her to it.

“I apologize if I’ve overstepped,” he breathed sheepishly. “I usually don’t come in, but you weren’t waking this time.”

“No, it’s okay. Thank you. For checking on me, I mean.”

His facial features became more clear as her eyes adjusted to the low light of the room. The expression he wore was indeed one of concern, but there was something almost fond in it, too. He offered her a small smile, and she eased her eyes closed to focus her attention on the gentle warmth of his hand.

“Nightmare?”

Nesta huffed an ironic laugh through her nose. Her voice was hoarse once she spoke.

“Depends on who you ask.”

Her eyes opened to fall on his concerned, handsome face. His care would normally set her teeth on edge, but her exhaustion wouldn’t allow it. Instead, she gave him the highlights of her mental turmoil, noting the subtle tension in his shoulders. He grimaced as she recounted the usual offenders, knowing all too well which scenes haunted her most. For months, by that point, she had been sharing her nighttime experiences if only to rid herself of some of the weight. At her mention of the latter part of her dream, his eyes widened in horror.

A laugh threatened to bubble out of her chest. She knew it didn’t fit the context, but the contrast between his reaction and the generalized calm she’d felt was glaring. All things considered, she’d seen it all as a win.

“Sounds like a nightmare to me,” he croaked; a mix of sleep and emotion sabotaging his voice.

“Like I said, it depends on who you ask. In some ways, it was. Reliving all those moments that haunt me enough in the waking hours is always hard, and the fact that everyone seemed so content to let me launch myself off a balcony was scary. I would almost rather a celebration than the indifference.”

Cassian swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing through the force of his emotions. She could tell her words hit him in a delicate place, but she didn’t dare comment.

“The Cauldron part— that one is new. I usually start at the war itself; not when I was, you know.” She trailed off, not comfortable with saying it: _when I was Made._ “Going through it again— seeing you injured, watching Elain go into that damned pot. It’s unforgivable.”

Her voice morphed into something similar to the hiss of a viper, fear and anger lacing themselves into her vocal chords. She paused to breathe as to not get too worked up in the middle of the night and risk yet another bout of insomnia.

“No one will hurt you here, Sweetheart,” he whispered, his hand moving to rub gently across her back.

“Surely you know you can’t promise such things,” she argued, although her voice was weaker than she preferred.

The Illyrian prick snorted a laugh as if it was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard in his over 500 years of life. Perhaps it was, considering there weren’t many things that were likely to best him. Rather than address it, she deflected instead.

“The strangest part of it all was the relief I felt at the direction of the dream. No longer did I have to hear my name uttered under people’s breaths; no longer was I such a blatant disappointment for them to handle. I was finally free.”

Cassian’s face crumpled at her candor as if the thought devastated him entirely. It was possible that it did; if how she felt at any sign of his pain was an indication. “You shouldn’t speak of yourself that way,” he chided softly. “If others do not see what you bring to this world, they don’t deserve your notice.”

She blinked at him, unsure if she heard him correctly. His tone was a disorienting blend of conviction and heartbreak, and the sincerity surprised her.

“Regardless,” she said quietly, “Their opinions remain. They will grow tired of shielding me from all that lay ahead.”

“Nesta, as long as I’m here, no one will hurt you. You have my word,” he promised again, his tone unchanged.

Her emotions prevented any relevant response, so she offered a watery, weak smile in return. She didn’t doubt his word for a second; knew he’d lay his own life on the line before allowing anyone to fall victim to an attack under his watch. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him.

Nesta just didn’t know how he could protect her when the person who hurt her most was herself.

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics:  
> I had a dream  
> I got everything I wanted  
> Not what you'd think  
> And if I'm being honest  
> It might've been a nightmare  
> To anyone who might care
> 
> Thought I could fly (fly)  
> So I stepped off the Golden, mm  
> Nobody cried (cried, cried, cried, cried)  
> Nobody even noticed  
> I saw them standing right there  
> Kinda thought they might care (might care, might care)
> 
> I had a dream  
> I got everything I wanted  
> But when I wake up, I see  
> You with me
> 
> And you say, "As long as I'm here  
> No one can hurt you  
> Don't wanna lie here  
> But you can learn to  
> If I could change  
> The way that you see yourself  
> You wouldn't wonder why you hear  
> They don't deserve you"
> 
> I tried to scream  
> But my head was underwater  
> They called me weak  
> Like I'm not just somebody's daughter  
> Coulda been a nightmare  
> But it felt like they were right there
> 
> And it feels like yesterday was a year ago  
> But I don't wanna let anybody know  
> 'Cause everybody wants something from me now  
> And I don't wanna let 'em down
> 
> I had a dream  
> I got everything I wanted  
> But when I wake up, I see  
> You with me  
> And you say, "As long as I'm here  
> No one can hurt you  
> Don't wanna lie here  
> But you can learn to  
> If I could change  
> The way that you see yourself  
> You wouldn't wonder why you hear  
> They don't deserve you"
> 
> If I knew it all then would I do it again?  
> Would I do it again?  
> If they knew what they said would go straight to my head  
> What would they say instead?  
> If I knew it all then would I do it again?  
> Would I do it again?  
> If they knew what they said would go straight to my head  
> What would they say instead?


End file.
